he said, ‘I didn’t see … oh, hello, Miss Wentworth.’
‘Hello, Duncan.’
Claire saw the bulging bags and realised that he’d been kept at home to help. She’d hoped that was the reason Janet was away too. ‘How’s your mother?’ she asked. Duncan looked at her in astonishment. Although news on the estate travelled like wildfire, usually teachers were excluded from the inner circle of gossip.
‘I called at the house yesterday,’ Claire said, seeing Duncan’s surprise. ‘Janet left school in such a rush, she forgot her coat and bag.’
Duncan’s eyes narrowed. Janet hadn’t left school in a rush. She’d arrived at Breda’s after him. But this wasn’t the time to go into it. He was aware of the rain seeping into his coat, despite the umbrella Miss Wentworth held over them both.
‘My mom’s all right,’ he said. ‘She had a baby girl.’
‘And the baby?’
‘She’s in a special baby place,’ Duncan said. ‘The doctor came round and told us. She’s sick but the doctor seems to think she’s a fighter.’
He fidgeted a little. The bags were getting heavy. ‘I gotta go,’ he said. ‘The shopping!’
‘Yes,’ Claire said, ‘of course.’ Then added, ‘Is … is … Janet’s hand better?’
Now, how did she know about Janet’s hand? Duncan thought.
‘She says it feels easier now the doctor’s dressed it,’ he said. He watched carefully to see what Miss Wentworth’s reaction would be to his words.
He wasn’t disappointed. Miss Wentworth started, her eyes seemed to grow larger and her voice was a mere whisper as she said, ‘A doctor! She had to see a doctor?’
‘No, he came round, I told you,’ Duncan said. ‘To tell us about Mom. He saw Janet’s hand and said she’d got dirt in it and he cleaned it and put ointment and stuff on and a bandage.’
‘She’d got dirt in it?’ Miss Wentworth repeated.
‘Yes, from when she fell over,’ Duncan said.
‘From when she fell over?’
Duncan wondered if Miss Wentworth was going deaf or daft. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘That was how she hurt it, wasn’t it?’ He wondered again how Miss Wentworth knew. Had she seen her fall or what? Or maybe one of the kids had said? It wasn’t important. His arms felt as if they were breaking and he dared not put the bags on the soggy ground. ‘I really must go,’ he said.
‘Of course. Tell your sister I’m sorry.’
‘What for?’
‘Just tell her.’
Duncan’s face was creased in a frown. He was certain Miss Wentworth was going loopy. It’s all that studying, he thought, enough to turn anyone’s brain. He was even more certain of this when Miss Wentworth continued, ‘And tell her she’s sure to hear any day now about the examination results.’
‘But … well, she knows, doesn’t she?’ Duncan said. He’d read the thing himself, for heaven’s sake, and he knew Miss Wentworth must know. He’d been sent to the factory to tell his dad, and when he got back his mom said Janet had ridden over to tell her teacher. He looked at Miss Wentworth and wondered if she’d had a knock on the head. She was staring at him as if he was the one who was odd, her eyes narrowed in disbelief and her mouth agape.
‘She … she can’t know,’ she said at last. Her mind didn’t want to accept it.
‘She does know,’ Duncan said emphatically. He didn’t like being disbelieved. ‘I picked up the letter and opened it because she wouldn’t, and it said she’d won a scholarship to Whytecliff High School. They went to see the school as well on Monday, Janet and our mom. Auntie Breda said that’s what brought the baby so early, with Mom not being well and then …’ He broke off and said to Miss Wentworth, ‘Are you … are you all right?’
The colour suddenly drained from Claire’s face and she swayed on her feet. She felt light-headed and tears swam before her eyes. It felt like the ultimate betrayal. Why, for God’s sake? Why? her mind screamed. Perhaps, she thought, Duncan might be mistaken. She doubted it, but she had to know, and she had to get rid of Duncan before he reported that he’d seen Miss Wentworth bawling her eyes out in the street. ‘I’m perfectly well,’ she replied stiffly. ‘I have just remembered something I have to do in school and I really mustn’t keep you any longer.’
Duncan watched her walk away and shook his head. Queer kettle of fish, teachers, he thought. Nice as ninepence one minute and pulling rank the next, going all stiff and starchy. To hear Janet talking, you’d think Miss Wentworth was a blinking saint, but she was as bad as all the rest and crackers into the bargain. Less you had to do with teachers the better, he decided.
Claire’s legs were shaking as she walked into the school. She went straight to the headmaster’s room, knowing he was away for the day, picked up the phone and asked to be put through to the education department. As she listened to the girl’s voice at the other end explaining that the letters had been sent out of the office on 24 March, she realised that Janet Travers had indeed won a scholarship to Whytecliff High School but for some reason had not had the decency to inform her teacher.
She didn’t understand. She thought she knew Janet so well, but the girl seemed to have undergone a character change. Claire was willing to admit she’d hit Janet harder than she’d ever hit anyone before. In fact, she’d hit her because she was Janet Travers. She’d taken her insolence as a personal affront and overreacted.
Janet obviously hadn’t mentioned it at home, but that wasn’t unusual. Claire used the cane and the strap sparingly, but when she had occasion to resort to it the boy – it was usually a boy – took his strokes with good grace, usually knowing that he’d well deserved it. No one ever mentioned getting in trouble at school to their family. They knew they would get little sympathy, and probably another dose to remind them to behave better in future.
In the same way, no child would say what they’d seen Miss Wentworth do to Janet, for they’d have to explain why. When their parents heard the reason for her discipline, they would think the punishment justified. It was Claire herself who was having doubts.
In the worry of the Travers household that day, where the mother lay ill and in grave danger of giving birth to a premature child, little notice would have been taken of Janet’s hand. When the doctor had spotted it, she’d obviously told him she’d fallen over. He must have known she was not telling the truth, but that was the story she must have stuck to, for it was all Duncan knew.
Claire wondered whether, if she’d sent the child from the room in the beginning, when she was still in control of her emotions, Janet would have told her what had upset or offended her, for it was obvious to Claire, thinking it over now, that something had.
I need to talk to her, she decided, and I must do it this evening after school.
Duncan dumped the bags on the cupboard top by the sink and said, ‘I’m starving, and these bags weigh a ton.’
Auntie Breda laughed. ‘Come up to the table, your dinner’s ready. Your dad’s been round and said your mom’s looking a lot perkier, so the news is good.’
‘And the baby’s holding her own too,’ Janet said.
Duncan didn’t really care about the baby, but he wished that everything was over and he could go back home. He didn’t mind Breda, despite her bossiness, but he’d rather be at home, and he even thought he’d rather be at school than being sent shopping and looking after his little brothers and Linda all the time. The thought of school brought to mind his strange meeting with Miss Wentworth. ‘I met your teacher coming home,’ he said to his sister.
‘Did you?’ Janet’s response was guarded and cool. She didn’t ask what she’d said, or how she was. Duncan was still